


debt

by bonebo



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Non-Con too i guess, Public Sex, dub-con, genji guilts hanzo into getting his dick wet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 04:44:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13333770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonebo/pseuds/bonebo
Summary: It’s been six months since Hanzo found himself on the roster of the team called Overwatch.He had been--to put it lightly--hesitant, at first, to mingle with the rest of his new-found allies; the British girl and her gorilla friend were nice enough, if mildly annoying, and the cowboy that somehow found his way into almost every room Hanzo was in had a certain sort of rugged almost-charm to him. The omnics were quiet enough and kept to themselves, the blonde medic seemed attentive and kind, and the older sniper and her silver-haired soldier were around so infrequently they might as well have been ghosts.But then there was Genji.





	debt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Muja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muja/gifts).



It’s been six months since Hanzo found himself on the roster of the team called Overwatch.

He had been--to put it lightly--hesitant, at first, to mingle with the rest of his new-found allies; the British girl and her gorilla friend were nice enough, if mildly annoying, and the cowboy that somehow found his way into almost every room Hanzo was in had a certain sort of rugged almost-charm to him. The omnics were quiet enough and kept to themselves, the blonde medic seemed attentive and kind, and the older sniper and her silver-haired soldier were around so infrequently they might as well have been ghosts.

But then there was Genji.

Hanzo would be lying if he said that he wasn’t trying to hide from his younger brother--subtly, of course, sneaking around the Watchpoint when he thinks Genji is gone or otherwise busy, or quietly excusing himself from any room when the younger Shimada walked in. The plan went well for a month or two, and when the initial nervousness started to fade Hanzo became bolder, finding himself spending longer amounts of time out of his room and away from the training field, getting to know the people he was sharing quarters with.

And he was surprised to discover that it wasn’t actually as painful as he thought it would be.

Lena was amusing, in small doses, and the cowboy--Jesse--had found his way under Hanzo’s skin in a way that made him smile like a fool and filled his belly with warmth. Angela was clever and generous with her care, Winston could hold an intelligent conversation, and there was no one better than Ana to talk to on the late nights when guilt and self-loathing kept him from rest.

And then there was Genji.

Hanzo was trying his best to acclimate himself to being around his younger brother again; starting by spending time with him in public spaces--while eating breakfast with the rest of the team, or when gathered for the monthly movie night--and, gradually, becoming more and more used to the idea, the feeling, of interacting with Genji again.  
In fact, Hanzo had deemed his progress moving along well enough, comfortably enough, that he had taken Genji up on his offer to meet for lunch--just the two of them, entirely alone, for the first time since Genji’s almost-death and Hanzo’s greatest mistake.

And Hanzo was nearly ready to burst clean out of his skin with anxiety.

“Aw, darlin’, it’ll be alright,” Jesse says, looking up from where he sits at his desk and quietly tinkers with his prosthetic. Hanzo had taken refuge in his room an hour ago in an effort to keep himself honest--because he knew that if he was in his own quarters he just might say fuck it to recovery and growth and hide there for the rest of the day--but now that lunchtime is quickly coming up, he finds his nerves clawing right back up into his throat to steal both his breath and his confidence away. “Genji’s a nice guy, we’ve been friends for years. He don’t hold no grudge against you, far as I know.”

“Excuse me for being skeptical,” Hanzo mutters, crossing his arms over his chest and glancing to the clock; he and Genji had agreed to meet at noon in the common area, then take their lunches to the tables outside, near the training grounds. It’s only five minutes till, and yet he’s loathe to leave the relative safety of Jesse’s room. “It’s just hard--”

“I know,” Jesse says, standing up and crossing the room to lay his hands on Hanzo’s shoulders and give them a gentle squeeze. He offers Hanzo a small, encouraging smile. “But hey...when you’re done, you can come back here, yeah?” 

Hanzo glances up at him and manages a weak smile of his own, nodding as he steps a little closer to the cowboy that’s somehow managed to wriggle his way into his heart. “...yeah.” He quirks a brow and shyly adds, “And you can reward me after, for a job well done…?”

Jesse beams, something akin to excitement flashing in his dark eyes. “I can do that, sugar.”

And so it’s with Jesse’s blessing and the prospect of something pleasant to come back to that Hanzo walks out of the room and heads toward the kitchen to meet his brother. When he shows up at two minutes past, it’s to find Genji waiting for him, leaning against the counter with a plate of food already made up and ready to go. 

“Hanzo,” he greets, voice even and level. If he’s peeved by Hanzo’s tardiness he makes no show of it. “Thank you for showing up. I was afraid you wouldn’t come.”

“Of course I would.” Hanzo grabs his own previously-prepared lunch out of the fridge and nods toward the door. “Shall we go? I imagine that we have much to discuss.”  
Genji holds his gaze a moment longer, then shrugs off the counter fluidly.

“I agree, brother,” he murmurs, and leads them outside.

Hanzo follows him at a distance, trying to ease his nerves and wishing for the cool, calm collection that Genji seems to have; and by the time they reach the outdoor tables, he feels that he’s managed to wrangle himself under control, for the most part. Their lunch is surprisingly pleasant--Hanzo avoids all and any talk of what happened that night, and tries to steer the conversation into safer territory any time Genji mentions their childhood--and by the time he’s finished his bento Hanzo finds himself feeling somewhat confident, even somehow satisfied with this little interaction.

It’s only one step on a long road to healing their relationship, but Hanzo thinks it’s a good one.

When both of them have finished eating, Hanzo thinks they’re done. He packs up his garbage and stands, only to find himself stopped by Genji’s hand on his wrist.

“Where are you going?” Genji asks, and Hanzo blinks at him, his brows furrowing.

“What do you mean, where am I going? Our lunch is finished.” Hanzo tries to pull his wrist free, and finds that Genji’s grip has tightened, metal turned as strong as stone. “...Genji. What--”

“We’re not done, big brother,” Genji says as he slowly climbs to his feet, his grip on Hanzo’s wrist not wavering in the slightest, even as the older Shimada tries to take a step backward. “Did you really think that, after all these years, I’d let you off so easily? That I wouldn’t want some kind of payment, for everything you’ve put me through?”

“Genji,” Hanzo starts, voice wary, “I don’t know what it is that you want, but--”

“What I want is very simple,” Genji cuts in, stepping in closer; and while Hanzo keenly misses the comforting weight of Stormbow on his back, he’s also aware of the way shuriken tips glitter in the slits of Genji’s hands. While he was certain of his ability to overtake his brother back in the day, their last interaction showed fairly soundly that Genji and his upgraded body was his better, now. “All I want is a show of how sorry you are. Of just what you’re willing to do to make up for all my years of pain and suffering.”

Hanzo stares at him, his mouth going dry--but how can he say no? What Genji is asking for is something Hanzo had been fully expecting to face; he knew there was no way he could get off that lightly. He couldn’t expect Genji to just want to move on with their relationship like nothing had happened, without getting back at Hanzo just a little.

“...what do you want me to do?”

“I want you on your knees,” Genji whispers, something akin to madness in his voice, the robotic filter straining his speech extra thickly. His grip on Hanzo’s wrist tightens, squeezing to the point of bruises and making Hanzo grimace. “I want you to get down and worship me, and repay me for everything I’ve put up with, everything I’ve lost, because of you.”

Hanzo hesitates. “Genji, I--”

“I’m sorry, big brother, I thought you were apologetic,” Genji cuts in, his tone turning sharp, caustic as acid. “Considering everything you took from me--my legs, my arms, my body, my happiness, years off my life--I thought you would like to make it up to me with something simple...but if I was wrong--”

“Wait,” Hanzo chokes, his eyes closed; the guilt is almost palpable, surging up in his throat like thorns. Maybe--maybe Genji’s right. After all, a blowjob wasn’t all that much, when compared to everything Hanzo had taken from his brother…

Genji tips his head to the side a little. “Yes, big brother? What is it?”

“I…” Hanzo sighs, slowly sinking down to his knees. “Just wait, Genji, please.” He hesitates, then swallows down the distaste with a strained, “I’ll do it.”

And that seems to pacify his brother, enough to have him releasing Hanzo’s wrist. “That’s what I thought,” Genji says, dipping his head a little. “Go on. Get on your knees.”

Hanzo obeys, sinking down into a kneel fluidly beside the table, only looking down when he hears a sharp clicking noise--and his mouth falls open as he finds himself face to face with Genji’s cock, now exposed to the open air.

It’s...Hanzo doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t a cock that’s long and thicker than his own, scarred pink along the base and already wet at the tip with pre-cum. He stares at it for a moment, completely at a loss for what to do; but then Genji’s hand is in his hair, closing around his ponytail and pulling him forward, and Hanzo doesn’t have any more time to debate how he’s going to handle it before Genji’s cock is pressed up against his lips.

“Go ahead,” Genji says, rolling his hips forward and coaxing the tip of his cock past Hanzo’s reluctant lips--and Hanzo opens his mouth for it, closing his eyes and accepting the intrusion, even as Genji’s fingers tighten in his hair.

His brother isn’t kind with him; not that Hanzo expected him to be, after how this whole affair was arranged. Genji’s hips rock forward in mean, quick thrusts, sheathing his cock in the wet warmth of Hanzo’s mouth time and time again, without so much as a break to allow him to breathe in between; and when Genji finally does pull back, it’s with Hanzo’s spit dripping from his cock and his brother’s cheeks flushed pink, his full lips parted as he raggedly pants for breath.

“Genji,” Hanzo gasps, putting a hand on Genji’s thigh to try to hold him back, wiping a hand across his mouth to clear his lips of the drool. He looks up with watery eyes and flushed cheeks, and starts, “Genji, wait--”

“Did you wait?” Genji sneers, grabbing Hanzo’s head with both hands this time, pulling him in so he can force his cock right back down his big brother’s protesting throat. “When I begged you to, did you wait?”

Hanzo can’t answer for the cock in his throat--but he doesn’t think Genji actually expected him to. This is nothing but a show of power, he knows; and here, on his knees with no weapons and a decade’s worth of guilt, he can’t do anything to stop it.

So when Genji’s cock butts up against his lips again, Hanzo opens his mouth without hesitation, without complaint. He closes his eyes and tries to make his throat relax, to make this easier on both of them--because at this point, that’s all he can hope for. 

To pacify Genji, pay his debt, and get this over with.

He doesn’t try to do any more than what is required of him--doesn’t try to engage, doesn’t flick his tongue or hollow his cheeks or bob his head--and to his credit Genji doesn’t seem to expect him to. Instead he bows over Hanzo a little further and humps against his face, his hands tangled in Hanzo’s dark hair and holding him still; and when his cock twitches between Hanzo’s lips, when his thrusts get deeper and more erratic, Hanzo thinks it’s going to be over soon.

But he should know better than to think that Genji would let him get away so easily.

He pulls his cock free of Hanzo’s mouth and drags him up by his hair; and Hanzo goes quickly, willingly, seeking to ease the pain. He stands in front of his younger brother and watches Genji’s free hand scrabble at his facemask, toss it aside without care, before he leans forward to crash his lips against Hanzo’s.

“I want you over the table,” Genji says, in between frantic, sloppy kisses to Hanzo’s unresponsive mouth. “Over the table with your pants down, I’m gonna fuck you, big brother--doesn’t that sound nice?”

“I--Genji, no,” Hanzo tries, leaning back in an attempt to get away from Genji’s hungry mouth; and he’s reminded again of their proximity to the training grounds, of the clear sightline from the tables to the shooting range. If anyone came out to practice they could see--and Hanzo’s heart freezes in his throat at the thought of Jesse, wandering outside with his Peacekeeper for a bit of shooting, and stumbling into such a filthy, deplorable act. 

He nearly chokes on the sudden surge of bile that rushes up his throat, and looks up into Genji’s eyes--eyes he used to know, turned so bitter and jaded, now. “Genji...Genji, please.”

“Please,” Genji repeats, his voice mocking; and his hands are strong as he turns Hanzo around, his strength raw and undeniable when he forces Hanzo’s face down against the table. “I begged you, once...I said please. Do you remember how many times I said please?”

Hanzo struggles weakly, blinking back the tears and trying to force the memories away. “Genji--”

“I said ‘please, big brother, please don’t hurt me’...and what did you do?”

“I--” Hanzo chokes on the words, his eyes closed tight. “Genji…”

“You didn’t just hurt me, big brother.” Genji’s hands grab at Hanzo’s pants, working them loose before tugging them and Hanzo’s underwear down, baring his ass to the air and feeling a rush of delight when Hanzo only weakly tries to struggle. “You killed me, remember? You hurt me so bad I almost died…”

He leans in and presses a kiss to Hanzo’s neck, right under his ear, and murmurs, “After all that, I don’t think that what I’m asking for is that much, do you?”

Hanzo’s reply is a bitten-back groan, the muscles in his body going lax in defeat as his body sags against the table. It takes everything in him to not jerk when Genji’s fingers, made wet with spit, pry at his hole--and then one works in and Hanzo has to grit his teeth, hissing in pain as he’s fingered open with little, if any, regard to his comfort.

“Shh, big brother,” Genji coos, nuzzling at the back of Hanzo’s neck lovingly, in stark contrast to the way his fingers curl up and spread and make Hanzo’s hole yield. “You should be quiet...you don’t want someone to hear, do you? What if someone’s in the shooting stalls right now?”

Hanzo stiffens at the words, his mind running wild with fears--what if, indeed. The last few stalls are hidden from his view, but they’re still easily within earshot, if he were to make too much noise; and there’s no telling who could be in them, or how they would react to seeing him bent over a table and taking a dicking from his younger brother. 

So Hanzo grits his teeth and closes his eyes, and swallows down the whimper when Genji’s fingers leave him.  
Instead the head of Genji’s cock butts up against his hole, fat and spongy and warm, and the initial push in has Hanzo biting at his arm to muffle his cry of pain.

“Shh, big brother,” Genji murmurs, petting his fingers through Hanzo’s hair like he might a dog. “Shh...don’t let anyone hear, you don’t want them to know what you’ve done, what you deserve...do you?”

Hanzo shakes his head as best he can, his knuckles white where his fingers dig into the tabletop; but when Genji’s cock is seated in him fully he can’t help the shocked, startled gasp that leaves him, the way his back arches and his muscles go tight.

“G-Genji, please...a-ah…”

“Please what, big brother?” Genji purrs behind him, rocking his hips slowly and petting across Hanzo’s back, over the spread of his shoulders and down to his bare ass. He gives one cheek a slap and grins at Hanzo’s sharp yelp. “I know it feels good, I know you’re a slut for this sort of thing…”

And Hanzo hates that he’s right, hates that despite the pain there’s a thread of arousal there too, curling hot in the bottom of his belly and making his cock start to stir. He arches his hips to make the penetration easier and swallows down his groan, burying his face in his hands--at least this way if someone sees him, he won’t see them. He won’t know.

And he hates that he’s grateful to Genji for allowing him that one small mercy. 

“You feel so good, big brother,” he moans, his cheek pressed in the space between Hanzo’s shoulderblades and his mouth open, panting softly against his shirt. “I knew you would...I always knew it, knew we would fit together like this, so perfect, Hanzo…”

And Hanzo wants to argue, wants to dispel the claim, wants to tell Genji’s he’s sick--but then his baby brother’s cock nudges up against something inside him that has him seeing stars, has his body jolting on the table, and Genji laughs in his ear.

“There it is,” he murmurs, his hips working faster, fucking into Hanzo with hungry abandon. His hands claw at Hanzo’s hips, pulling him back into each deep thrust. “I found your sweet spot, big brother--mm, it feels good, doesn’t it?”

He doesn’t give Hanzo a chance to reply, just fucks into that spot harder, quicker; there’s much to be said for the power in his new body, because each thrust has the breath leaving Hanzo in a forced gasp, and by the time Genji is rutting into him mindlessly Hanzo can’t deny the warmth that streaks down his cheeks.

He doesn’t feel it when Genji cums--he’s too wrapped up in trying to tamp down his filthy pleasure, in trying to keep quiet for whoever may be in the shooting stalls beyond, in trying to swallow the guilt and self-loathing along with his whimpers. All he feels is the sharp sting as Genji pulls himself free, the leeching cold as he hits his knees, leaning on the table to support himself and not daring to face his brother.

“That was good,” Genji tells him, leaning down to press a kiss to Hanzo’s head before grabbing his mask up off the floor. When he speaks again, it’s with the robotic filter masking his voice, and it’s easier for Hanzo to pretend it’s not really his baby brother saying, “But keep yourself available, Hanzo...you haven’t quite paid off your debt, yet.”


End file.
